


little star

by iwillalwaysbelieve



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Paper stars, Wishes, but let's say eunwoo has met too many fair folk to give his real name, eunwoo grants wishes, what a good child, yes i know his name is dongmin and typically i would go with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9714248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillalwaysbelieve/pseuds/iwillalwaysbelieve
Summary: there's a strange (cute) boy who gives moonbin paper stars every day on the train. moonbin finally realizes why.





	

**Author's Note:**

> @parkminihyuk if u want to find me on tumblr come love me

the first time moonbin gets handed a paper star he’s running late, drenched in rain, has forgotten the folder he needs for a  _ really _ important presentation, and to his horror he actually glared at the grandmother who took her sweet time getting onto the bus. 

he contents himself with eyeing all of the other passengers looking for somewhere to sit so that they leave him alone, and slumps into his seat with a sigh; now that there’s no more reason for anger, as all he’s doing is sitting, he has to try harder not to cry as he thinks of how angry his professor is going to be, and the deficit this is going to leave in his grade, and how dumb he’s going to look floundering in front of class as the professor makes him do what he can, and, and,  _ and _ …

and someone taps him on the shoulder so he turns around to see the boy in the seat behind him with a closed fist held out as though to give something to moonbin. moonbin frowns, but this time it’s confusion, not anger, until the boy uncurls slender fingers to reveal a puffed-up paper star sitting rounded and cute in his hand. 

“you look like you need a wish,” the boy says, his voice melodic. 

obviously, the star isn’t actually a  _ wish _ , but moonbin is typically polite and he’s not going to leave the strange boy hanging, so he plucks the star from the boy’s hand and studies the delicate yellow contraption. “thank you,” he finally remembers to say, and the boy smiles a little wider as moonbin scrambles to get off the bus. 

it’s foolish, realistically, but as he stands in front of his professor’s room he clenches his fingers tighter around the star. “i wish minhyuk would have brought the project,” he whispers, and walks into the room with his teeth worrying his lip and a sinking feeling in his stomach until minhyuk jumps up from his seat with wide eyes and a familiar blue folder in his hand. 

“you forgot this at the dorm, hyung. lucky thing i saw it and had time to get here.” 

as moonbin sits next to minhyuk with a grateful smile he glances curiously at the paper star, white paper curled innocently around sharp creases. 

 

the twenty-third time moonbin gets handed a paper star he’s on his way, reluctantly, to a shift at the grocery store he works at. his manager called him the day before, desperately asking him to cover an eight-hour shift, and he didn’t want to but he accepted and dragged himself out of bed and now he’s sullen, already groaning at the thought of how  _ bad _ his feet are going to hurt later. 

there’s a tap on his shoulder that has become familiar, and he looks back to take the little yellow star being offered to him by the undeniably cute boy who always takes that same seat. as he starts to turn back to face the front of the bus moonbin sighs. 

“wish i knew your name,” he mutters under his breath, slides the star into his pocket carefully. 

“eunwoo.” he whirls around at the sudden voice, only to see the star boy smiling at him with something approaching mischief in his eyes. “my name is eunwoo. figured we should know each other’s names, if we’re going to keep this up.” 

“ _ are _ we going to keep this up?” 

eunwoo shrugs. “if you’re lucky.” 

moonbin lets out a startled little laugh; eunwoo’s confident, and that’s refreshing after sanha’s constant hesitation about whether or not he’s good enough to be the live music at the little coffee shop he plays for. “well then, eunwoo,” he says. “moonbin. nice to meet you.” 

mischief dances a foxtrot in eunwoo’s eyes as moonbin stands to get off the bus. “have fun at work!” 

moonbin snorts. “yeah, good luck with _ that _ . day before halloween, it’s gonna be hell.” 

eunwoo just smiles, and moonbin brushes his hair out of his eyes, fixes his nametag where it’s clipped to the collar of his shirt, walks into the store. he clocks in, checks in with the head cashier, and opens up a register, the  _ click _ of the light turning on like a death sentence in his head. 

chanwoo grins at him from the register in front of him once their lines dwindle; before eleven it’s always slow, even the day before a holiday. “think we’ll get out early? it was mentioned, but somehow i doubt it.” 

“man, i  _ wish  _ we’d get off early,” moonbin sighs, starting up his conveyor belt as a young woman sets a carton of milk on it. “that’s the dream.” 

the star in his pocket pokes itself into his thigh as he works, but he’s not going to risk losing it by putting it with his other things, so he deals with it and smiles his way through his shift, until the head cashier catches him half an hour before his shift officially ends, studies the clipboard in her hands. 

“turn your light off.”

“am i going home?” he perks up at the thought, forgets his aching feet. 

“once you finish your line, yep.” she moves away to go bag for one of the other cashiers and he grins at the middle-aged man he’s checking out. 

“congratulations,” the man says, and moonbin nods. 

“today’s my lucky day, i guess.” 

 

the forty-fourth time moonbin gets handed a paper star sanha’s with him, guitar in hand, and he’s confused as to why moonbin ignores open seats closer to the front of the bus in order to take his usual seat just in front of eunwoo. 

moonbin just shrugs at him, content to not talk with eunwoo, as it’s become something of a habit that there aren’t really conversations, just eunwoo handing moonbin a star and moonbin thanking him before getting off the bus. he’s got jars in his room for the stars, now, one for the yellow and one for the white, though occasionally he finds he’s misplaced a white one in the yellow jar. he finds it strange that he never puts a yellow one in the white jar, but ignores that for the most part, blames it on his own forgetfulness. 

sanha, however, sees that moonbin knows eunwoo and twists in his seat to introduce himself with a bright smile. “yoon sanha, are you a friend of moonbin’s?” 

“of a sort,” eunwoo answers. “we see each other here almost every day. cha eunwoo, nice to meet you.” 

moonbin listens with interest; he supposes eunwoo has accurately pinned down their relationship.  _ friends _ , of a sort, though moonbin has to admit he doesn’t really know anything about eunwoo other than that he likes to give out paper stars. 

moonbin turns to the window, though he listens to the conversation as sanha starts to prattle about this and that, his usual talkativeness immediately overcoming the shyness moonbin still feels. 

the sound of folding paper soon accompanies sanha’s familiar voice. the chatter is inconsequential things, about the work at the coffee shop and his guitar playing and the professors he likes and doesn’t, and eunwoo seems content to listen and ask questions that prompt yet another round of storytelling. 

sanha gets off a stop early to duck into the music shop and get a string replaced on his guitar, and once the doors hiss shut again moonbin turns to eunwoo. “i’m sorry if he was bothering you.” 

“not at all.” eunwoo’s smile is bright, his dark eyes sparkling. “i enjoy hearing about human experience. how people tell the little things makes them seem so much more exciting.” 

moonbin laughs a little at that, but he sees eunwoo’s point, and if someone can put up with how much sanha likes to talk, well, moonbin isn’t exactly going to  _ complain _ . 

the bus creaks its way to a stop by the coffee shop on the corner and moonbin stands, but looks to eunwoo. with a grin eunwoo reaches up to unfurl his fingers and reveal a tiny white star. “good luck with the performance. maybe i’ll stop in at some point?” 

there’s a blush painting moonbin’s cheeks as he meets sanha in front of the coffee shop; he’s had friends come see him perform and usually it’s no problem, but it’s  _ different _ with eunwoo, more personal. still, he slips his star into his pocket and brushes off sanha’s questions, and the performance goes without incident. 

 

the sixty-seventh time moonbin gets handed a paper star he’s got his phone in his hand, a bag slung over his shoulder, and worry creasing his brow. eunwoo initiates conversation almost as soon as moonbin sits. 

“what’s wrong?” 

“dance performance in an hour, but my friend went early to help set up and may have strained his shoulder, and he’s our lead which is not great.” 

minhyuk’s insisting he’s  _ fine _ , text bubbles popping up almost constantly with reassurances, but moonbin isn’t going to be reassured until he sees for himself. 

“that sucks,” eunwoo says. “will he be better in time?” 

“that’s the question.” moonbin sighs, lets his head  _ thunk _ against the window. “makes me nervous.” 

he’s got his arms resting on the top of his seat, facing backwards to talk to eunwoo, and his thumbs fly as he texts a reply to minhyuk, his eyebrows knitting when minhyuk refuses to sit and rest but instead wants to continue to help setting up. to his surprise a slender hand comes to cover his own gently, and he looks over, startled, to see eunwoo looking steadily back at him. 

“things will work out,” eunwoo says, and there’s so much  _ truth _ in his voice, so much confidence, that moonbin finds a little of the tension leaking out of his shoulders. 

“how can you know?” 

eunwoo smiles softly, his thumb rubbing circles over the back of moonbin’s hand. “because i’m sure you’re talented enough to step in if need be, and i’m sure it’s just your nerves making it seem worse than it is.” 

moonbin sighs, again; it feels like that’s all he’s done this morning. 

“don’t stress,” eunwoo says as moonbin stands to get off the bus. he hands moonbin a star, taps moonbin’s closed fist twice in an oddly reassuring gesture. “good luck, and i hope things work out.” 

moonbin rushes his way into the auditorium to see minhyuk sitting, annoyed as one of the on-hand medical staff fusses over the compression tape littering his shoulder. 

“i  _ told _ you i’m fine,” moonbin hears minhyuk groan. “i pulled it momentarily but the muscle will be fine for me to dance.” 

“if you’re fine then you can deal with the tape,” the staffer retorts, and moonbin has to stifle a smile because he knows minhyuk has this image he likes to keep up of being invincible, and he does bounce back from injuries well, which was why moonbin was so worried. now, though, he sees minhyuk was just being dramatic, and as he walks over to start warming up he slips the folded paper star into his bag for safekeeping. 

 

the eighty-second time moonbin gets handed a paper star his hands are shaking slightly as he climbs onto the bus. there’s something, something he’s realized, figured out, discovered because of a dance assignment that required research of mythical creatures. 

there’s this pair of twins in his choreography class he thought would be fun to choreograph as doppelgangers, one stealing the other’s characteristics and style over the course of the dance, but as he was flipping through one of his books a word caught his eye before he ever got to doppelganger:  _ djinn _ . 

commonly mistaken for genies, he read, they grant wishes. 

and all he could think of was the jars on his desk, the ones minhyuk makes fun of, the ones filled to the brim with yellow and white stars. he’s been so  _ lucky _ the past three months, grades soaring, never sick, never late, and it seems any time he wants something for his friends he gets that as well. all the while his stars sit in their jars, piles on piles of precise creases and puffed middles and paper so delicately arranged by fingers that moonbin could probably draw from memory, if he could draw, and pretty eyes that sparkle even in the dim lighting of the bus. 

so he’s come prepared this time, knows he’ll get another star but he’s got one in his pocket, and he’s got a  _ plan _ . 

he sits down and wastes no time; he needs to know for sure if his hunch was right. as eunwoo watches him curiously he pulls the little yellow star out of his pocket, watches eunwoo’s reaction—there is none. 

“these,” moonbin says, “today you’re going to tell me about these.” 

eunwoo shrugs. “what do you mean? i can make you another, if you want. i was planning to anyway.” 

“no,” moonbin says. “not that. what do they do?” 

“i don’t know what you mean.” moonbin knows by the slight tension in eunwoo’s shoulders that he does know what moonbin means. he’s not sure quite when he learned to read the strange boy so well, but it’s working to his favor. 

“i think you do, and i think i know how to find out.” he holds out the star, sitting innocently in his palm, and locks eyes with eunwoo. “i wish—” eunwoo’s eyes widen slightly, but that’s really the only tell “—you’d tell me the truth.” 

he looks down, and he was right: the yellow star is now white. moonbin lets out a little huff of laughter, studies the star more closely. 

“what?” eunwoo’s got an eyebrow raised. 

“didn’t expect that to actually work.” moonbin looks back to the other boy. “the whole day i’ve been trying to convince myself i’m crazy, and it was kinda working. does that mean you’ll tell me the truth now?” 

eunwoo sighs. “yes.” 

“good. are you a djinn?” 

“pronounce the  _ d  _ less separately.” 

“that was a yes or no question, eunwoo.”

“...yes.” 

“and these...these are wishes?” 

“you’ve done your reading.” 

“stop trying to dodge the questions.” moonbin really doesn’t want to have to deal with this. he’s always hated people who dodge questions, try to weasel their way out of answering. “are they wishes or not?” 

eunwoo catches his bottom lip between white teeth, tugs at it. “yes. one wish per star.” 

“but sometimes when you give them to me they’re already white.” 

“maybe i ran out of yellow paper.” moonbin draws in breath to snap something angry back, but eunwoo holds up one of those slender hands to placate him. “you gotta let me get used to this. i’m not technically supposed to tell anyone.” 

“so why are you telling me? can’t you have made some loophole like you only had to answer one question truthfully?” 

“djinn typically aren’t as devious as the fair folk,” eunwoo says. “they’re the mischief-makers. just...you seem like you’ve figured it out anyway, without my help, so i may as well fill in the gaps so you don’t get yourself killed by doing something stupid.” 

“thanks?” 

“no problem. star?” 

moonbin takes the yellow star, shoves it into his pocket with the white one. “you’re gonna tell me more about this, one of these days.”

“at least buy me dinner before you wrangle all of my secrets out of me.” 

moonbin surprises himself. “fine. lamb skewers, in a week and a half. gotta get myself through finals first. but you  _ are _ going to tell me everything.” 

 

the hundredth time moonbin gets handed a paper star he’s not on the bus anymore. 

they got off the bus an hour ago, ate at the lamb skewers place jinwoo likes to frequent for special occasions. how, moonbin asked once, can you frequent something for special occasions? jinwoo just responded that you can find something in any situation to make it special, which may have sounded nice but really was his excuse for getting lamb skewers. 

it’s snowing by the time they leave the restaurant, but they ignore it and walk the streets, and moonbin has thought eunwoo is cute or pretty for weeks now, but now he thinks eunwoo is beautiful, backlit by the streetlamps so he looks even more magical. snow dusts itself through his dark hair and his eyes sparkle as he takes in the crowds of people shopping for the holidays. 

“i always did love this time of year,” he says. “so many wishes i almost could burst.” 

“isn’t too many wishes a bad thing?” moonbin swings one of the bags in his hand, the gloves and scarf inside a gift for his little sister. “how could you decide, for one thing, and wouldn’t it drive you crazy?” 

eunwoo smiles at a little girl dragging her parents to see the display in a shop window. “most of them are simple things, happy things, easy enough to grant, but we do try to limit it to those who look like they need it. single mothers who need even a small gift for their children, kids who want to help parents they know are struggling, stuff like that.” 

“so you’re a bunch of do-gooders, is what you’re telling me,” moonbin teases, laughing when eunwoo reaches out as though to slap the back of moonbin’s head. 

“we try to help.” 

they pass a little art shop, the watercolors in the window an ache in moonbin’s heart; they’d be perfect for his mother, but art like that is just a little outside the range of a college student. 

“i wish—” eunwoo pulls his hand out of his pocket to reveal a little yellow star, and moonbin shakes his head. “stop. i won’t have you wasting one of your holiday wishes on me, and besides, it’s an expression. i won’t go policing my words just because i’m with you.” 

a nod of acquiescence and the star vanishes back into eunwoo’s coat, and they walk on without another word of wishes. 

eunwoo’s company is sweet, familiar, and they fit together like puzzle pieces slotting into place next to each other. by now it’s getting late and the crowds are dissipating, children vanishing into cars with their parents at the wheel, and a few of the shops begin to close up. 

moonbin shifts one of his bags to his right hand so he can use his left to adjust his scarf, and before he can transfer back the bag eunwoo reaches out and catches moonbin’s fingers with his own slender ones. the link pulls moonbin closer until they walk almost brushing shoulders, their entwined hands in the middle, and moonbin glances at eunwoo to see his face slightly pinker than before; moonbin doesn’t think it’s just the cold that colors eunwoo’s cheeks. 

“come on, i wanna show you something,” eunwoo says, his voice a little quieter. 

he tugs moonbin along until they reach a secluded little park, and the pond is frozen over and so perfectly reflective it’s like the stars are actually embedded in the ice, the lights of the city adding to the shimmer.

“couples come here to wish sometimes,” eunwoo says. “they wish mostly for a good end to their relationship, but that sort of thing is mostly beyond my control. i can do the little things, like giving one the confidence to ask the other to move in together or the trust to think the other isn’t cheating, but i can’t ensure the ending.” 

“is there anyone who can ensure the ending?” 

“just the couple themselves. it’s communication and hard work, you see, that keep a relationship going, not always devotion.” 

“ah.” 

they’re both quiet for a minute, watching their breath puff out in white clouds above a star-filled pond. 

“actually,” moonbin finally says, “i have something i want to wish for.” 

eunwoo holds out the little star once more, and this time moonbin takes it, though he never looks away from the soft shine of eunwoo’s eyes. “i wish,” he starts, and stops for a moment, bites his lip. “you know what, i’ll keep this one private, if i can.” 

“oh?” eunwoo cocks an eyebrow. 

“yep. i’d imagine it’s not that hard to guess, though.” 

there’s a beat, just one, and eunwoo is smiling when he leans in to kiss moonbin, smiling when they press their foreheads together a moment later, both pairs of hands in eunwoo’s pockets. 

“did you get your wish?” 

the little star is still yellow, but moonbin doesn’t need a paper star to answer that. 

“and more.” 

  
  


myungjun teases him later about being the luckiest guy in the world, to have a boyfriend as pretty as eunwoo, but he’s only confused when moonbin turns to eunwoo and laughs like it’s an inside joke they’ve had for years. “you have no idea, hyung,” he says. “literally the luckiest.” 


End file.
